


crossing the event horizon

by MrMundy



Series: gravitational singularity [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, M/M, and recovers from his manipulation at the hands of talon, and so does rein, because he deserves it, overwatch loves and cares for siebren, the fic where siebren joins overwatch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 05:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20187040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrMundy/pseuds/MrMundy
Summary: In astrophysics, an event horizon is a boundary beyond which events cannot affect an observer on the opposite side of it. An event horizon is most commonly associated with black holes, where gravitational forces are so strong that light cannot escape.----In other words, Siebren de Kuiper crosses his own event horizon and his life changes in ways he never expected.





	crossing the event horizon

**Author's Note:**

> There's a lot of headcanon in here. A lot. But this fic is a work of love and I hope it's enjoyable. 
> 
> ( I personally listened to a lot of Gnossiene no. 1 and The Gymnopédies while writing this. )

Siebren de Kuiper didn’t know quite where he was. He couldn't remember when he'd gotten to the lab he was currently stationed in. The last things in his memory were an accident, panic, someone yelling for him, and then - a click - and nothing past that. Vague feelings would creep into his mind: isolation, loneliness, despair, and guilt. Danger, something breaking. And then he'd forget again. 

It was quite tragic, really. He knew much of what he’d experimented on, knew his life’s goal and his teachings and all of his personal history. But there were gaps in his memory, recent gaps, spanning perhaps months or years or perhaps even a decade. When had he left Horizon? When had he started work here, creating miniature gravitational fluxes and researching things on his own? Alone?

He knew the person who’d given him this new laboratory after his previous one on Horizon had been destroyed - by his experiment, he knew. _ That _ was where he knew the accident from, of _ course _ ! But still, the process of going from _ one _ space station to the _ next _ was a blur. _ When _it had happened, he couldn't tell. Could have been a month, or perhaps a year ago. He recalled walking into the main laboratory, the airlock closing behind him and conversing with a man who’d shown him around.

The man he'd been conversing with - a large, intimidating man wearing a white coat - had explained his new laboratory to him piece by piece. He had drones to clean up after him, supplies at the ready should he ever need them, and a place to put in requisitions for food and other necessities. He could call for help any time he needed.

So, essentially the same as every other space station he’d been on before - albeit without the company of other scientists.

He’d settled in fabulously well. After his boss ( that’s who he was, wasn’t he? ) had left, he’d thrown himself into research fairly quickly. Patterns he’d found before came rushing back as he put pen to board, scribbling out formulas that would help him to finally control what the universe had gifted to him. 

That’s what happened, right? He’d been so far into his research - manufactured a black hole, harnessed its energy. Made something far beyond what had ever been made before, past the Tobelsteins’ work. What they had was artificial gravitational pull, what he had discovered was true gravity, the very workings of the universe itself! The force that pulled the universe together, into itself, further and further, to the very center of a black hole. To endless destruction. A black hole would consume everything within its path. Planets, matter, stars, people, life itself...

But what lay inside the dark of a black hole? That was what he wanted to learn. What he needed to see for himself. His curiosity would never be sated until he knew just what made the universe tick. 

Tick.

Tick, tick, tick.

Clocks, running every second. The beat behind a song. The tapping of a foot before the first note on a piano, of a pen tapping against the board as he became lost in thought. 

Tick, tick, tick…

His head thrummed. The music of the universe sang to him once more, causing pain to curl into the front of his head. A hand, shaky, came up to rest upon his forehead - it was his own, wasn’t it? Yes, that was his own hand. Siebren opened his eyes, stared at the skin of his palm, studied it intensely for several long moments while time ticked on and the music faded into the recesses of his mind. 

_ Het universum zingt voor mij. _

That would become his mantra, spoken aloud and repeated in his mind. The universe sings to me, it sings to me, it sings to me…

Halfway through a formula, Siebren let go of the pen he was using. As his fingers left the pen, it began to float upwards, and he was dumbstruck. The space stations had artificial gravity thanks to the Torbelsteins’ work, keeping everything in place, perfect, perfect, just as it was on Earth…

Had it been shut off, perhaps? 

Siebren looked down. Realized he was weightless, that his feet weren’t touching the ground. His eyes swept over the room, and most things were right where they were supposed to be. Anchored down, not moving. But him, his pen, and - he let go of the black mug in his opposite hand. It stayed, barely moving as it left his hand.

Curious.

Very curious.

Perhaps he had some control over it. Over gravity, after learning the music of the universe. Perhaps it had gifted him more than he’d thought, more than just the melody ringing repeatedly in his mind.

He flexed his fingers, and the mug he’d been holding drifted further away from him. A gesture back, and the mug followed. Sweeping his hand in a slow, circular movement, he watched the mug follow his fingertips as though commanded, the liquid inside nearly halfway empty, splashing against the walls of the ceramic. 

Gravity was under his control. He could harness it, do what he wanted with it.

Siebren looked around once more, and the intensity of the situation fell upon him. Drifting closer to the center of the room, he spun slowly, arms extended, watching various items drift upward at the gentlest nudge from his mind. His arms swept upward in one quick, concise motion -

and slammed back down, palms flat, and he watched as everything his mind had grasped onto flew upward and back down in one cacophony of noise and destruction. Glass lay across the floor, papers flew from the air and metal tools bent on the floor.

_ This _was true power, he realised. Gravity was at his fingertips, and he only need to think to bring about destruction. Like a black hole, he could destroy everything in his path. He could truly and fully harness the power of the universe, any time he pleased.

Gingerly, he swept himself over to the doorway, waving a hand to alert a drone to clean up the mess he’d made. It beeped several times at him before scurrying through the doorway to begin cleaning. He needed more coffee, he needed to stay awake so he could research more into what he was able to do with these abilities.

The kitchen was tidy, still. Immaculate, actually. The coffee machine buzzed away, barely touching the sound of the music in his mind. By now it was yelling, screaming at him, drowning out his own voice. He poured coffee into a new mug. Watched it as it fell, focused hard enough that he didn’t accidentally force it to float away on him.

Once full, he lifted the mug to his lips and drank, slowly, hoping to ease his mind.

But his head still hurt. Still _ pounded _.

He held the mug in his hand just a bit too tightly and it shattered, coffee dripping down his front, burning, shards of ceramic in his hands and anger swelling in his chest and then --

He was staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom. His body ached as though he'd exerted himself far beyond his usual threshold. Where he expected to see cuts on his fingers, his skin was clear and free from harm. Strange. So very, very strange.

Siebren was about to get up when he heard the door to his bedroom slide open. Footsteps approached and he nearly swung his hand up in fear, stopping when he saw a labcoat. Eyes drifted upward, along the frame of a very skinny woman, landing on a face covered partially by metal, red hair swept into a wild mess.

“Dr. De Kuiper. It’s good that you’re finally awake. I was sent to check on you.” Her voice was accented strongly. Siebren found that he didn’t quite like the sound of her voice, but he’d deal with it.

“I - Someone was sent to check on me? After…” He paused. Trailed off, unsure of what to say.

“After you passed out. Something happened, we saw a blip on your lab. The entire place was in a mess, but you seemed alright for the most part. Don’t worry about your hands,” She said, gesturing vaguely. “I took care of that. I’m Dr. Moira O’Deorain - I sort of specialize in that sort of thing.”

“Healing?” Siebren asked, sitting up slowly. 

“Yes, and improving the human body beyond its normal functions. You’ll find you have significantly less joint pain from now on - I went ahead and helped you with that while I healed your hands and your burns. Hot coffee, couldn’t wait for it to cool down?”

“I… Suppose, yes. I was very excited about some research that had gone right.”

“I understand that feeling completely, my friend. If you’d like to talk about what you’ve discovered, perhaps,” Moira looked away for a moment, clicking her tongue in thought. “Bounce some ideas off of a willing ear, I’ve got time before I should head back.”

Talking out loud helped sometimes, didn’t it?

Especially with ideas that had no reasonable answer. Even if Dr. O’Deorain didn’t have the same knowledge that he did about astrophysics, perhaps getting some ideas out would help.

“That sounds good, actually.”

Moira left after several hours. Having her to talk to made it easier to rule out several formulas and create a new one - sometimes she chirped in with an idea of her own, an outside perspective from a source less knowledgeable in his particular field that somehow helped. Creative minds, of course.

Still, he was grateful when she left. He could only take so much human interaction before it became unbearable to force a grin and a chipper attitude. 

She stopped by every now and again. A couple of times a month, generally after he had a moment of blacking out. She’d fill him in on what happened ( or at least, her knowledge of the situation after coming by and judging the destruction ) and he’d come to appreciate her being there when he was in such a low place. She would distract him with formulas of his own creation or speak of her own research, allowing him to be the one to bounce ideas off of.

It was relaxing. A good way to spend time.

Each time, however, she would leave and he would be left alone once more, with his thoughts, with the music, the melody, the weight of the universe pushing in against him.

  


Violence.

Violence and smashing and the unmistakable sound of bone crushing under immense weight. The feeling of victory by the slightest of chances, of escaping with barely any fight left in the body, beaten down until broken and bruised -- 

Staring up at the ceiling. Again.

Was it all just a dream?

Siebren sat up, slowly. His head spun. Moira was in the room nearby, leaning against the wall, watching his movements as though ready to counter or run away from him.

What could cause such fear?

“Was I yelling in my sleep? What happened?”

She fixed him with an odd stare, tilting her head to one side. The metal around her eye glistened in the overhead lights, and he could swear her hair was soaked in sweat, her eyepiece was shimmering with it as well, why had she exerted herself so badly, had he hurt someone?

“You… Went into a fit,” She said, simply. Wiped a brow with one hand. 

“A fit,” Siebren repeated. “Did I hurt you? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Moira said. “You mostly hurt yourself. I couldn’t understand a damn word of what you were saying.”

"Or course. I'm sorry, I… realize that this happens often."

Moira nodded slowly, backing toward the door.

"Yes, well. It's no problem at all if I need to come help. Part of the job."

A realisation crept into Siebren's mind.

"Why do you always visit here? Am I not allowed to visit your laboratory?" He said, standing. His feet didn’t touch the ground. Moira stepped back again.

“It’s been decided that you stay here - your powers aren’t fully explained nor controlled yet,” Moira said, her voice even, but her eyes betraying her anxiety. She hit the switch of the doors and backed out as they opened, eyes trained on Siebren’s form approaching her.

“And who decided that?” He asked, hand catching on the doorframe before he floated too far upward. A burst of imagery flashed in his brain - restraints, violence, music, an orange jumpsuit and doors shut tight and locked and -- “The ones keeping me imprisoned?”

“Imprisoned?” Moira questioned, brows raised. “No, we wouldn’t imprison you, Dr. De Kuiper, we simply have a facility specially built for you in case your abilities get out of hand once again!” 

Siebren continued forward. He raised a hand toward Moira, ready to do… Something. Something violent. Something that would force her to tell him the truth, when suddenly she was gone in a flash of darkness. Left standing, floating, Siebren succumbed to the music in his mind and tore through his laboratory, flexing gravity every which way to release his anger. A drone smashed into the floor, a chair toppled over a desk and sent debris flying. The rubble he gathered into his hands, balling it into itself, and sent it flying through his lab, smashing into a computer panel.

And then everything went quiet. 

The music stopped.

The only sound he heard was the hum of the space station, the drones following after him to clean his mess, and his own labored breathing. His hands fell to his sides and slowly, his feet met the ground and he began to hobble back toward his bedroom. 

Alone.

Lost in his thoughts.

He was being used, wasn’t he? His research wasn’t his own and it never would be. Not with people breathing down the back of his neck, looking to take every word of what he wrote. The universe was singing to him and him alone, just Siebren, nobody else. 

Would it want others to know its secrets? Or was he to keep them to himself? 

Next time Moira was around, next time anybody was around, he’d let them know just how he felt.

Except …

How did he feel? What was real anymore? 

  


Air. Fresh air, not like the sterilized air locked up in the space station. Siebren took a deep inhale, gasping as he felt a breeze against his face. Glass was shattered around him, falling into his helmet. Helmet? When did he begin to wear that?

His eyes focused, and for the first time in quite some time, he saw something other than the white walls of his laboratory - he saw the sky, blue, the sun shining down upon him in a way that he hadn’t felt in so long. It burned his eyes, forced him to shut them until --

“Dr. De Kuiper?!” A voice rang out, followed quickly by loud slam beside him and a large shadow blocking the sun.

“Ah,” Siebren said, “It’s you. Say hello to Dr. Winston for me, wouldn’t you? And,” 

He shifted to sit up. Heard scuffling in the distance. Moira’s voice rang out, shouting something about getting a ‘Sigma’ back into the transport. He heard a young woman make a remark followed by gunfire. As he focused his eyes onto the being in front of him, he was relieved to finally see a familiar face that wasn’t the Irish scientist he’d been dealing with for some time now.

“Wouldn’t you be so kind as to tell me where I am?”

“Well,” Specimen 28 - that was his name - fumbled with his weapon for a moment, activating what looked to be a large barrier. “We’re in Greece, why don’t you know that, Doctor?”

“Last I knew, I was holed up in some space station to do endless research.” Siebren said. The glass digging into the side of his face was uncomfortable, but he couldn’t move very well. Were his hands bound? It felt like it. The chipper young woman’s voice returned once more and he heard forces moving away from their location, and above the sound of it all he heard Moira yell something about abandoning the mission. What mission?

“Winston, who’s this guy? We takin’ him in or something?” Siebren rolled his head to the side to see a young lady spinning a pistol in one hand. 

“I see no other option. This is Dr. Siebren de Kuiper,” Winston said, gesturing a hand over Siebren’s form. Siebren tried to follow the motion but wound up dizzier than before, shutting his eyes to rid himself of the feeling. “He was a brilliant scientist working in one of the Horizon stations years ago.”

“And now he’s with Talon, and we’re just going to…” Tracer slipped her pistol away and made a motion of tying something up. “Take him back to HQ and, I dunno, put him away?”

Put him away...

Put him away?

“Please don’t lock me up,” Siebren said, pleading. His gaze locked onto Winston, and suddenly he remembered - he remembered being imprisoned, the way he had to be restrained and held captive lest he hurt himself or someone else. The way that gravity escaped his grasp until he’d been given time in his new laboratory to truly understand and harness it, how he’d accidentally hurt and killed so many people because of his power, because the universe chose him --

  
  


“Good morning, Dr. Siebren de Kuiper. I’ve alerted Winston that you have awoken. Do you need anything?” A voice, robotic and feminine, pushed through Siebren’s mind. He blinked his eyes open and stared around the room he was in, watching it flow in and out of focus for several long moments. 

“I,” He started, and then cleared his throat. “Water, perhaps. Please.”

“Not a problem. I’m opening the doors to your room, please exit and head down the hallway. Winston will meet you there, and there will be someone willing to help you find a drink.”

“Thank you?” Siebren said, looking around the room for the source of the voice. She wasn’t in his head, was she? Either way, he got up slowly, feeling the ground under his feet through a pair of socks and headed where the voice had instructed him.

The hallway was clear of any furniture or loose belongings. Names were displayed over doors and on panels of locks but he didn’t recognize any of them. 

It made him wonder just how long he’d been unaware of everything going on. How long he’d been imprisoned, how long he’d been forced to do work for a group he didn’t even know.

At the end of the hallway was a large common room area, where several people sat at tables and chatted among themselves. Between them, Siebren recognized only one - a young woman who’d been stationed in Antarctica. He remembered hearing the news about the Overwatch station there. After all, many of his experiments had been sponsored by Overwatch’s funding - he’d listened for their work in other areas just out of curiosity.

“Oh, Siebren. You’re awake, good.” A man approached him, dark skin and a wide smile. His accent reminded Siebren of something vaguely French, but he couldn’t quite place it. “Winston’s on his way. You need something, a drink? You’ve been asleep for a bit.”

“I - Yes, water?” Siebren said. The man placed a hand on his shoulder and lead him through the common area. Nervously, he twisted his hands together in front of him and glanced around the room. Nobody seemed bothered or confused as to why he was here - why _ was _he here? Who were all these people?

The man left his side - Siebren swore he knew his name, it just wasn’t coming to him - and filled a glass of water at the counter. Gratefully, he took it and realized his hands were shaking, causing small tremors in the water. Nevertheless, he raised the cup to his lips and drank slowly, relieving his itching throat. 

"Do you remember anything about where you are?" Baptiste said, leaning against the counter. Seibren slowly lowered his glass, looking down into it for several moments. He wanted to say he knew, but that would ultimately be a lie.

"No, I'm… afraid not." He stated. 

"Alright. Well, you're in an Overwatch-organized Watchbase," Baptiste started, waving a hand to gesture around the large, open area. "Right now we're technically not supposed to be active, but Winston launched a recall about a year and a half ago." 

"Oh." That didn’t explain much. Perhaps it only explained just enough, though - he could feel his mind struggling to grasp the concept.

"Anyway, after the Recall, the first to respond were Lena Oxton - you'll see her with Winston quite often - and Mei-Ling Zhao, who was stationed in Antarctica."

"I recall her name. From the news about Overwatch doing research in Antarctica." That was something he knew, at the very least. It eased his mind slightly.

"Good! That's good. Now, with her," the man pointed at the table in the mess hall, naming people as he pointed to them. "There's Angela Ziegler, who I've no doubt you've heard of, Torbjorn Lindholm, Reinhardt Willhelm, Brigitte Lindholm - she's Torbjorn's daughter - and Fareeha Amari. There are other agents around - The Shimadas, Mirembe, Jesse McCree, ECHO, Sojourn --"

"And you?" Siebren didn’t mean to interrupt; he was simply curious.

"Me? Oh, of course. I'm Jean-Baptiste Augustin - you can call me Baptiste. I wasn't part of Overwatch initially, but I _ did _help convince Angela to answer the recall and bring me along."

"How long have I been here?" Siebren said, his eyes wide. Baptiste smiled, putting a hand on his back once again. 

"You've been with Overwatch for five months now. Every so often, you end up forgetting, but we know the signs by now, we've been taking care of you..."

"Five months?" Siebren said. "How could I forget--"

Just as he was questioning the situation out loud, Winston approached. This time the gorilla wasn’t in a large suit of armor, but rather what looked to be an Overwatch branded uniform - it was a little strange to see. 

“There you are, Doctor!” Winston said, his voice cheerful. Baptiste broke away from the situation then, waving a hand in Siebren’s direction as he walked back toward the other Overwatch agents at the large common area’s table. Winston urged Siebren to follow him, and after a moment’s hesitation, he did.

Winston lead him down a hallway opposite the one he came in from, treading down a path filled with other lockers and doorways, explaining things as he went.

“So, all in all, you’ve shown great progress, Doctor! Your laboratory is actually down this way, too - filled with everything you could possibly need to continue your experiments on gravity and learning to control your abilities.” He paused to point down one of the hallways off the one they were traversing down. “There, actually. Do you know how exciting it’s been to see you at work?”

“You … enjoy seeing me work?” Siebren said, brows knitting together. People were interested in his experimentation?

“Of course! You’re nothing short of a genius, and the things I’ve learned from you!” Winston laughed, though it was a delighted, excited sort of laugh. “I always knew you were brilliant, but to actually see your work firsthand…”

“That’s… Quite flattering, actually. Thank you.” Siebren turned his gaze downward slightly, embarrassed by the praise. 

“You’re very welcome! Anyway, here,” Winston stopped in front of a set of large doors, opening it with a passcode. When they swung open, Siebren could see the interior of the room was a laboratory of Winston’s own - if the large tire swing and suit of gorilla-shaped armor was any giveaway. “I wanted to bring you here to show you your records. We do it every time you show hints of losing bits of memory, and it helps you learn more about what’s been going on.” 

Winston led him to a large computer screen up on the second floor of the lab. The walls up here opened into a large window, showing the landscape and exterior walls of the other areas of the Watchpoint. Down below, Siebren caught a glance of a man covered in a large swath of red fabric, leading along a few other people. He chose not to focus on them, and instead watched Winston work at the screen, pulling up records of his actions at the Overwatch facility.

The first thing he saw on the screen was himself, sitting in what looked to be a medical bay. Angela, the doctor Baptiste had pointed out, was laughing with him about something, and the Siebren on the screen looked entirely comfortable to be there, dressed from head to toe in black Overwatch-branded clothing. Looking closer, he saw something he hadn’t realised before - the back of his skull was covered in a large metal plate. Raising a hand to feel for himself, he felt that there was, in fact, a plate covering … What had been there before? 

The sound turned on after another moment, and Siebren heard his own voice.

“--you, Angela. I haven’t felt this good in years.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, Siebren. Cracking jokes only a few days after getting out of surgery! I never expected it from you.” Angela set down her datapad, then reached for Siebren. “Let me look this over again, and then I’ll let you go. And _ please _, don’t you dare bump your head on your way out.”

Siebren on-screen laughed as he hunched downward so Angela could get to the plate on his head. She inspected it closely and they laughed at something again, this time inaudible to the camera. Once she was satisfied with her inspection, she allowed him to sit up once again and picked up her datapad, typing something in.

“I’m glad this is healing fast for you. Whatever Talon did to your skull, it was dangerous, and It’s good that we got to it when we did.” Siebren heard himself make a noise of affirmation, and then detailing something about what had happened before. Winston, however, had chosen then to swap the screens, opening up to one in what looked to be a training range.

Siebren didn’t recognize the armor he was wearing, but it was in the standard white and orange he’d noticed on other Overwatch agents. In the video, he had two orbs in his hand and was flicking them side to side while Baptiste and the man in the red poncho stood nearby. Reinhardt stood nearby as well, arms crossed as he leaned against one of the walls.

A training dummy followed its track in front of Siebren on-screen, who flicked the orbs in his hand outward. They erupted into themselves as they collided with the bots, causing the others around him to perk up in interest.

“And you said those were… Miniature black holes?” Baptiste said, eyes wide. 

“Oh, nearly!” Siebren heard himself say, and almost mouthed along to his next words. “They’re called Hyperspheres, miniature gravitic charges that I’ve managed to create. I figure that even if I’m not the one using them out on the field, demonstrating them would be a magnificent idea.”

“That’s… Impressive,” Reinhardt admitted. “Are they safe for us to even … use?”

“Well, that… I haven’t worked out, yet.” Siebren admitted, and pulled another sphere from somewhere. He tossed it into the air, and it fell into an array of pieces surrounding a dark orb, which he spun with one hand. He brought his hand into a fist and the sphere returned to its normal shape.

The screen flashed again, turning into another scene from another area of the Watchpoint, and Siebren unconsciously floated into the air to relax, watching the events unfold with a curious mind.

Another month passed, this time without the hiccup of forgetting where he was. Sometimes, Siebren would black out, at which point he knew only that Angela and Baptiste would hurry to his side and assist him. But now he didn’t forget much, only what happened when he blacked out entirely. That didn’t bother him too much, as he trusted Angela and Baptiste to fill him in.

He trusted them more than he had ever ( willingly ) trusted Moira.

Still - only a month later and Overwatch’s numbers had grown considerably. Many agents had returned to fill in the gaps of numbers, including several more medics and soldiers, and some other specialized people with abilities beyond that which could be categorized with a simple word. A young Korean woman had shown up for a week and then returned home with a statement for others in her squad to align themselves with Overwatch ( not publicly, but they would have access to their resources ) to fight the Gwishin threat. A musician from Brazil had joined, and Siebren found that he genuinely enjoyed the young man’s music, and the two of them would regularly trade music recommendations. 

And then, as he was having lunch with Reinhardt and the two Lindholms, there was a commotion from one Fareeha Amari rushing into the mess hall.

“Torbjorn, Reinhardt - You’ll want to come, quick,” She said, her voice in a panic. Reinhardt and Torbjorn stood suddenly, and Siebren followed suit simply out of curiosity, floating behind the group and listening. Reinhardt, his quickest friend besides the two doctors caring for him, encouraged him along with a wave of his hand and then a steadying touch on his shoulder.

“What’s going on, Fareeha?” Reinhardt asked.

“Mom just arrived.” She said, matter-of-factly.

Reinhardt and Torbjorn both stopped in their tracks, their eyes wide and heads tilted.

“Ana?” Torbjorn asked, incredulous. “Ana Amari? Fareeha, she’s been _ gone _ for ages.”

The way Torbjorn said _ gone _ told Siebren all he needed to know about the mysterious woman. Dead. Or, supposed to be.

“She’s been alive, Torbjorn, and she told me in a letter… a year ago? I -- I just never told anyone and now she’s here with Jack, and--”

“Jack?” Reinhardt nearly shouted. “Fareeha, this is all a bit much for a prank.”

“It’s not a prank, Reinhardt!” Fareeha said, throwing an arm out. “She’s alive and she’s at the Watchpoint right now!”

"Alright, alright," Torbjorn said, waving his hands. "Take us to her so we can see for _ ourselves _."

Brigitte rejoined them after a few moments more, rushing down the hall and almost colliding with Siebren. He steadied her with a quick smile and a flick of his wrist, ensuring that gravity wouldn't cause her to land face-first on the ground. At first, she seemed a bit put off by the gesture, but shrugged it off as she continued following the rest of the group.

They descended a set of stairs into the main hangar, where there was a rather small transport sitting near the now closed doors. The doors of the transport were wide open, and from inside crept an older woman, white hair and a brown headscarf. Her clothing was tattered, belts hanging loose where Siebren could only assume weapons normally hung.

"Mom!" Fareeha shouted, and broke away from the rest of the group to run toward Ana, and - well. Siebren had never seen a young woman reunite with her thought-to-be-dead mother, and he tallied it up with one of the sweetest things he'd seen. Reinhardt and Torbjorn were both dumbstruck for some time - the larger man was the first to act, picking up both Ana and her daughter in a tight hug, his voice overcome with intense emotion. 

Later, Jack would wake up from the tea-induced nap Ana had put him under. The former Overwatch members held a meeting to welcome back two of their founders and catch up with them - the news about the Reaper was spread, leaving one agent McCree betrayed. Siebren realised then, as he watched the man leave the room, that he felt terrible for him, and he was beginning to see the agents as…

Family, for lack of a better word.

Family.

He wondered what his family was up to - best not to disturb them, he concluded. Maybe one day.

“So,” Ana said, looking up at Siebren from over her teacup. They were sitting together, alone, in his laboratory, and he’d just concluded some extra experimentation before she’d come in. “It’s nice to see a new face around the Watchpoint. I heard you were… Brought in by Winston?”

Siebren nodded, leaning back against the counter. He was floating, as usual, propping his back up against the cupboard behind the counter. 

“Mmhm. For… Oh, how long was it, ten, eleven, years or so? I was locked in a… Facility,” He explained, pausing to take a slow sip of the tea Ana had made. It was lovely, actually, hardly fitting for the conversation at hand.

“I heard about that, as well. And then kidnapped? Not to bring up bad memories, of course.” Ana said, waving a hand, “You don’t have to tell me about that if it will upset you.”

“No, at this point it doesn’t upset me the way it used to. My mind was so fractured then, I barely recall what I was doing.” Siebren let go of his teacup, allowing it to float in front of him as he put his hands in his lap. “I feel much better, these days. Then, all I heard was whispering and strange music. Melodies I couldn’t place the name of, things I thought were secrets only for me to hear. Now I realize that it was an anomaly caused by the exposure of my being to the inner workings of a black hole. Knowing what it does, now, I think I’ll focus my time more on gravity itself, but--”

He laughed.

“You didn’t come here to talk about that, now did you?”

Ana’s eyes narrowed. 

“No, of course not, Siebren. I was actually wondering if you could tell me anything about what Talon did to you.”

His heart felt as though it leapt into his throat. Again, his mind had been fractured then, but suddenly he remembered the violent anger he had toward Dr. O’Deorain, and…

He held a hand to his forehead. His teacup was rattling slightly, and he focused his mind on easing it onto the counter without spilling.

“They just used me. That’s all I really know, I’m afraid.” He swallowed heavily. “Of course, no, I know they used not just my research, but me, and then waited until I forgot everything afterward. I feel terrible for all the things they must have had me do.”

“I pay close attention to any news regarding Talon. If they did use you, they must not have used you in any obvious attacks, because I didn’t see anything about gravity manipulation in any news reports.”

“That’s good, then.” He sighed, looking past Ana at the holovid he had playing in the background. A young woman playing piano, a hauntingly slow melody that ended after he went quiet and transitioned into a new song. 

Bolting upright, Siebren awoke from a dream that left him with only a feeling of fear and pain, the melody seeping into his thoughts and pressing against every piece of his mind. He let go of gravity and felt himself drop onto his bed, sheets tangled around him, and put his head in his hands. He hadn’t forgotten anything but he just needed to hold it together, just ignore the pounding in his brain…

Cracking open his eyes, he saw the light from his clock and his datapad shining across the room. The floor tiles looked for a moment as though they were falling away, like he would have to avoid the floor in order to turn the light on. Of course, he could always --

“Athena?” He said, and the light beside his door blinked on, flashing blue. 

“Yes, Dr. De Kuiper?” Came Athena’s voice, hushed low for the nighttime.

“T -- Turn on my lights, please,” He said, and pressed his hands against his eyes so as not to burn his vision the moment they flicked on. Slowly, he brought his hands away from his face and looked around the room, seeing everything properly in its place, the floor perfectly kept, and nothing to be afraid of.

“Thank you, Athena.”

“Is that all, Doctor?” 

“I -- Yes. I’m fine, now, thank you.”

The light beside his door blinked off. He sat in his bed for several long minutes, trying to decide if he wanted to get up and walk off the nightmare, or try to head right back to sleep. The thought of drifting back into sleep and hearing those whispers again made him uncomfortable, so after chewing his thumbnail for another moment he shoved himself off of the bed, feet meeting the cold tile. Pain shot up his ankles and he remembered that after being able to not touch the floor for so long, his legs had gotten rather weak. He’d have to try to get into the Watchpoint’s exercise area soon and try to recover that, then.

He lifted himself off of the floor and made his way out of his bedroom and toward the mess hall, thinking of either water or coffee, water or coffee, did he want to stay up after this and head into his lab…

As he approached the tables, he saw Reinhardt sitting at one of them, a glass in front of him. Quietly, he made his way to one of the fridges and took out a bottle of water - Reinhardt was only alerted to his presence by the light shining out of it and he turned to see Siebren floating inches from the ground, a water bottle in both hands.

“I take it you couldn’t sleep, Reinhardt?” He said, drifting over toward the larger man. Reinhardt kept quiet, nodding slowly. Siebren made a motion, asking permission to sit beside him and was relieved when he was given a smile and a nod once more.

He handed one of the bottles over to Reinhardt, who opened it and drank a quarter of it at once. Siebren took his much slower, clearing his throat after a short sip.

“Are you… Alright?” Siebren asked, leaning his head onto his hand. 

Reinhardt seemed solemn, and when he spoke, his voice was low in a way that Siebren wasn’t used to. Heartbroken, sad, and reminiscent.

“Sometimes I just… Have dreams about the Crusaders. And I remember being an arrogant young man who didn’t take the Omnic Crisis as seriously as I should have until…” He paused, put his hand over his mouth. A heavy sigh escaped him, shaking his shoulders. “Until Balderich was killed. And then it hit me - It hit me that I couldn’t just go around trying to prove myself as better than the other Crusaders. I was there for a reason, and it was to protect innocent lives, protect the other soldiers…”

Siebren put a hand on Reinhardt’s shoulder. He relaxed, only slightly.

“I just wish it hadn’t come down to that. I wish I could have seen sooner…”

“Reinhardt, my friend,” Siebren said, and ran his thumb over his shoulder. One thing he’d learned about the man was that he was a very physical person - any amount of touch could help comfort him. “I… Didn’t know this Balderich, but I’m sure he’d be proud of you. You’re quite literally a hero, you know.”

Reinhardt laughed, but it was a quiet, sad sort of laugh. Siebren pulled his hand away, instead flexing his fingers to toy with the water bottle, hovering it an inch off of the tabletop.

“Thank you, my friend. Ah, listen to me, making a fuss over this. What has you up this late, hm?” He said, and Siebren could recognize that he wanted to change the topic, so he went with it.

“Oh, just… I had an unpleasant dream, is all. Trying to shake it off.” He said, shrugging his shoulders. 

“If you want to talk about it,” Reinhardt said, “I will listen.”

“I think just being around a friend is enough to distract me from it.” Siebren said, smiling at Reinhardt. It wasn’t a lie, he realised, as he felt the pressure in his mind recede.

  


Siebren found that he rather enjoyed having friends around the Watchpoint. Angela and Baptiste were always kind to him - as was Torbjorn, and Reinhardt, and recently Ana, as well. He’d grown to like Ana since her arrival - she’d known Reinhardt and Torbjorn for a long time and fell right back into her friendship with them, reminiscing about older days over tea. Siebren enjoyed sitting in on those conversations, hearing what the Overwatch agents had gotten themselves into at younger ages.

Afterward, he would often find himself traversing some of the back trails behind the Watchpoint with Reinhardt. He’d grown attached to him rather quickly - perhaps it was the larger man’s protective presence that made him feel safe. Nonetheless, he was able to laugh wholeheartedly around him, and on more than one occasion they’d stayed out past nighttime and Siebren had shown him ( and sometimes Ana, sometimes Torbjorn ) shapes in the stars, pointed out galaxies and planets and they’d stay out far later than either of them should have.

There came one night after such adventures, he and Reinhardt were trailing their way back to the Watchpoint and Siebren was lost in thought, thinking of just how much he cherished everyone at the Watchpoint, how much they’d all helped him come so far, how much more control he had over himself and his gravitic abilities, when --

"Siebren," Rienhardt said, his hand grasping Siebren's, tugging him closer.

"Yes?" He looked down and realised how far off the ground he was floating, and guided himself back down, hovering just an inch from the ground. "Sorry."

"It's alright, my friend. Sometimes I simply worry that you are going to float too high before you realise!" Reinhardt laughed, grinning from ear to ear. “Out here, you might end up getting yourself back up among the stars.”

“I’m sure I would realise before I got that far, my friend.” Siebren laughed, nudging Reinhardt with his shoulder. “Besides, should I ever go there once again, I think I’d bring you along.”

“Me?” Reinhardt said, a brow raised. “Ah, perhaps that could be fun… I’d never imagined myself as ever wanting to go up there.”

“It’s wonderful. The endless nights, the research labs, the feeling of no gravity - of course, I… Can do that now, can’t I?” Siebren said, waving a hand. Reinhardt nodded, and they stood for a moment just outside the doors to the main building. They didn’t meet each other’s eyes for a long moment, not until Siebren flexed a hand and pulled Reinhardt up from the ground by a few inches, watching his face turn to a surprised expression upon being weightless. It wasn’t often that a man of Reinhardt’s size was easily lifted from the ground, now was it?

He really did enjoy his new abilities - especially when he could use them to make his new friends laugh.

  


The winter holidays rolled around, and with it, a plan from Winston for everyone to gather in Italy with their families. They were to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day there, then return to the Watchpoint for New Year's. It was safest to be there for a short amount of time, Winston had said, and even the agents that didn't celebrate Christmas agreed to come along to have a moment with their families. The high travel traffic would make it easier for them to look like tourists rather than a ragtag group of Overwatch agents.

Siebren mentioned only once his daughter - after Ana suggested telling her of his situation, he refused on terms that he'd contact her once he was fully aware of himself. After that, only Reinhardt had brought it up - merely out of curiosity than anything else.

"She's a pianist," Siebren had explained one day, sitting alongside Reinhardt in his lab, then pulled up a video on his datapad of her work. She’d gotten successful, and there were holovids of her concerts on many areas of the web. Reinhardt pulled himself up closer to Siebren to see. And if Siebren was comfortable enough to put his head on Reinhardt's shoulder, well… neither of them would make a fuss of it.

Soon, the trip rolled around and they made their way to a northern town in Italy. The ride was fine - Lena piloted, and as they sat around to play cards, Siebren heard McCree and Genji make a joke about a bad accent, and Hanzo chuckled along as well. As they descended onto a landing area that one of the other agents had gotten clearance to use from family, Reinhardt pulled Siebren aside to show him something.

Tickets.

To a piano concert featuring one Milou de Bruin - his _ daughter _. 

“Reinhardt?” He said, looking the tickets over in his hands. Others were leaving the transport vehicle, allowing them a moment alone. “This is short notice, how…”

“I figured since you haven’t seen her in so long,” Reinhardt said, his voice soft, “Perhaps seeing her… Like this, would be good for you.”

Siebren found himself rubbing at his eyes, drifting down from where he’d been floating inches from the floor. Gingerly, he wrapped his arms over Reinhardt’s shoulders and squeezed, letting out a rather teary laugh. 

“Thank you,” He said, pressing his face against his friend’s shoulder. Reinhardt’s arms wrapped around him, gentle, as though he could hurt him. He probably could - he’d noticed Reinhardt always held back much of the affection he gave to others. “I do hope she doesn’t notice me, of course.”

“That could be troublesome.” Reinhardt agreed. They parted when Siebren needed to wipe at his eyes once again, and they both headed from the transport, shoulders brushing as they left to follow the rest of the agents toward their agreed location.

Many members of Overwatch sought out their families that night - Torbjorn brought his wife and their plethora of kids around to the hotel they were staying at, and Siebren was suddenly very grateful that Winston had booked them a ballroom and had it set up for a family get-together. Reinhardt was delighted to see the children, lifting each of them up into his arms. After Torbjorn’s family came several other families - Lena’s girlfriend, Emily, arrived with a few gift boxes for the agents she knew personally and Siebren was introduced to her before she was swept away to spend some time with Lena and Winston.

Torbjorn waved him over afterward, introducing him to each one of his children, and Siebren admitted to himself that so many names would be difficult to remember. And then Brigitte piped up with a delighted smile, “You should _ see _what Siebren can do!”

Which lead to a demonstration of his abilities. Each of the children wanted to be lifted by his gravitic power, and he found that now, he didn’t mind. Torbjorn watched, his arm around his wife, grinning as one of their children jumped up near Siebren, asking to be lifted again, again!

It was fun to be around a family again. 

It made him miss his little Milou. Of course, she wasn’t so little anymore - from what he’d seen online, she had a family of her own, a successful career… And he was going to be able to see that career tomorrow evening with a dear friend at his side.

The rest of the evening was spent enjoying the company of family, and Siebren felt welcomed into Torbjorn’s as he was pulled in for a photo with all of the kids. 

The following day was spent in a rush. Ana had managed to have tickets from Reinhardt as well, bringing her daughter along - but before they got to the concert hall, she’d forced them to stop at a clothing store that was still open and searched the building up and down for something that would fit the both of them.

“Broad shoulders on the both of you. Why didn’t you bring anything nicer?” She complained, holding up a jacket to Siebren’s form. He hoped she would allow him to wear the turtleneck he had on currently under the jacket. 

“I didn’t even know Reinhardt had planned this,” he admitted. Ana raised a brow at Reinhardt then, as though asking him why he’d even attempt to take Siebren to see his daughter without asking.

Reinhardt rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. He didn’t say much while Ana forced him into several jackets and shirts. When she settled on something for the both of them, Reinhardt was in a blue blazer and a white button-up, and Siebren was allowed to keep his black turtleneck so long as he wore the grey jacket she’d found for him. He didn’t even look at the price tag. He didn’t want to know how much Ana was spending on him.

She led them to the concert hall on foot, occasionally straightening a jacket sleeve or lapel. Fareeha watched, amused, seemingly grateful that her mother was focusing her nitpicking attention on two grown men instead of her. Siebren had to focus on staying on the ground - after so long at the Watchpoint, being allowed to simply glide along the floors, actually being on his feet was rather difficult. At some points, he would simply allow himself to levitate unnoticeably above the ground, only truly stepping down when someone would look too closely. The shoes, of course, hurt his feet, but he was willing to put up with it for a chance to see his Milou.

Thankfully, the concert hall was flooding with people at a steady rate, so nobody noticed him. His ankles hurt quite a lot by the time he finally got to sit down in one of the seats, and he was rather glad that he’d be able to relax for a few hours. It was a fortunate occurrence that they were in a higher row near the back - he would still be able to see his daughter on one of the large holoscreens above the stage, but she wouldn’t be able to notice him. 

He settled in beside Reinhardt, and Ana sat on the other side of Reinhardt with her daughter beside her. She’d mentioned that it was their first Christmas together in a long time, and how happy she was that they could spend it doing something memorable. Fareeha didn’t seem the type to enjoy piano, but… 

Siebren wouldn’t judge. 

The next few hours were a rather emotional ride for him. Siebren’s eyes watered when he saw his no-longer-very-little Milou step out and take her place on stage, and Reinhardt’s hand covered his with no hesitation. Reinhardt’s larger hand enveloped his and helped him to control his emotions, resulting in no accidents with his gravitic powers. And a good thing, too - he had the feeling that if nobody was there to ground him, he may have begun floating without realising. Ana kept a close eye on the two of them for some parts of the performance, a gleam in her eye that seemed to tell that she was proud of Reinhardt making a new friend.

They left before the last song was completely finished, simply because Siebren needed to decompress from the entire ride. He was held low to the ground by Reinhardt’s arm locked into his at the elbow, while Ana and Fareeha trailed behind them and chatted. Surprisingly, Fareeha had very much enjoyed the trip thus far - perhaps because she was spending time with her mother.

When they finally returned to their hotel room, Siebren finally allowed himself to relax, floating up into the air and pulling a blanket around himself. Comfort, in his own eccentric way.

  


After the holiday in Italy, things were in a rush. The New Year approached quickly, and with it, missions on every corner of the globe. Siebren never saw a lick of it - he stayed behind with a warning from Angela that perhaps seeing Talon agents face-to-face wasn’t the best idea, and keeping his emotional state healthy was more important than ever testing his gravitic power out on the field. He had to agree; and besides, it got him more time in his lab.

He’d figured out just how to precisely control a miniature charge of gravity, free from any restraints, when one Reinhardt Wilhelm was at the door of his lab, leaning against the frame. The larger man simply watched Siebren work for some time before he finally cleared his throat, catching Siebren’s attention.

“Oh,” He said, and rolled a hypersphere’s metal casing around the charge he’d held in his hand. “Do you need something, my friend?” 

“No, I don’t.” Reinhardt said, pushing himself away from the doorframe. “But it is almost the New Year, and… Well, we don’t want you to miss it.”

Siebren perked up, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Of course, of course… I can leave this here…” His things were set on the countertop, and he removed his labcoat to hang it over the back of a chair that he never used. Following Reinhardt out of the lab, he flipped the light off and caught up beside him without ever once touching the ground.

“The younger ones have set up some little light show, fireworks, I think,” Reinhardt said, “Those new ones that don’t make much noise? With all the glitter and the sparks. I think they’re rather cute.” 

Siebren laughed gently, raising a brow toward the larger man. 

“Cute, really? I didn’t think anyone would refer to fireworks as cute.”

“Ah, well. The best word I could think of. I’m better with my German than my English, you know.” Reinhardt chuckled. 

“I know some German,” Siebren said, meeting his gaze for a moment. “I could see how much I remember, should you ever want to discuss things in a language you’re more comfortable with.”

“You do?” Was the response, incredulous. “_ So then, you don’t mind if I start now, do you _?”

Siebren smiled. 

“_ Not at all, my friend _.” He nudged Reinhardt’s shoulder with his own, and while he’d only spoken German recently with Angela, it wasn’t too difficult to fall back into speaking with someone.

They arrived to the edge of the cliffside where other agents had set up blankets and coolers, and McCree was cooking something that smelled rather nice. Siebren found himself a blanket from a pile that had been left with a note for anyone to use, and wrapped it around his shoulders. Reinhardt, in his sleeveless shirt, seemed all too comfortable, even with the chill of the ocean air and the night on him.

They sat together near Ana and Jack, both of who were in a deep conversation about some recent events. Siebren tuned it out, content to simply stare up at the night sky while barely skirting the ground, his blanket fluttering in the breeze. Reinhardt had sat down beside him, hands in the grass, and listened to him talk - in German - about specific stars, clusters, and planets he could point out.

The chill of the night air eventually worked its way past Siebren’s blanket and sweater. He tugged the blanket tighter around himself, tucking his nose into it, when Reinhardt then tugged him closer, his large arm settling in around Siebren’s shoulder.

“_ I _ ,” Siebren started, his cheeks flushing, “ _ Thank you _.”

“_ It’s no problem, my friend. _” Reinhardt replied. Ana had paused in her conversation with Jack to look at the two of them and looked as though she was going to comment when Lucio shouted something about starting a show. At that, they each turned to look up at the sky again and Siebren curled himself just a smidge closer to Reinhardt, relaxing when the arm around him squeezed him just that tiny bit tighter.

Reinhardt had been correct about the fireworks being quieter. Lucio had decided to play music along with them, and they were close enough to the Watchpoint’s cliffside and the buildings to be hidden from most points of view. Winston had only allowed the young DJ to have such a show after stressing that Athena could only hide so much.

Partway through, Reinhardt tucked his chin closer to Siebren’s face. He didn’t push him away.

The younger agents began to count down when the time rolled closer to midnight. Siebren saw a few pairs curl closer to each other. For a moment, he wondered if he’d been a fool to waste his younger years and ruin his first relationship so young, but then…

But then Reinhardt smiled at him and his stomach did something funny and he wanted to let go of gravity altogether. He almost did, had it not been for the fact that Reinhardt had a solid arm around him and he really, truly didn’t want to miss his chance.

Their timing was off - it wasn’t quite midnight when it happened, but he tilted his head and hoped he’d read the situation right and was relieved when he felt lips against his and a hand on the back of his head, Reinhardt’s beard a pleasant scrape against his skin.

They pulled back, and Ana was grinning at them from her place beside them. Siebren tucked his face against Reinhardt’s neck, hiding his reddened cheeks, but he couldn’t quite hide the smile that broke out upon his face.

Sixty-two years old and he was finding happiness in a place he’d never expected it.

  


“So, some great news, Siebren.” Baptiste said, holding a datapad out as he typed away on it. “The last time you forgot something was around five months ago.”

“I realized that,” Siebren said, his hands folded together in his lap. Baptiste had him sit up on one of the beds in the medbay to get through another checkup, and after Siebren had changed back into his normal clothing they reviewed his mental state. 

“That’s fantastic. I wasn’t sure how much we could help, since your situation is so unique.” Baptiste held up the datapad, showing Siebren the timeline of his stay at the Watchpoint. “Since you don’t technically have any sort of mental illness we can treat with drugs or traditional therapy, a lot of what we’ve been doing has simply been trial and error. But it seems like the thing you needed the most was an outlet for those powers you obtained.”

“I think once we’re able to actually go public about this, it might change how things are handled with special cases like yours.” Baptiste sounded hopeful. And Siebren couldn’t blame him - he knew now that his situation had been handled as though he was a ticking time bomb, like he was simply waiting to go off and hurt so many people.

( He _ had _hurt so many people, before. Before he knew what was going on, before his mind had a chance to rest after being destroyed and split into a million pieces. )

"I honestly cannot say how grateful I am to have been helped by you. By all of Overwatch, really." Siebren said, twisting his fingers together. Perhaps by this time next year he would be able to step into a more public light, see his daughter, and perhaps Overwatch would be allowed to function again. He would love nothing more than to be an official Overwatch agent, even if all he did was research in their laboratories. 

"We're all grateful to have _ you _ here, you know. You're a testament to how people can improve, how unique situations deserve unique treatment. Perhaps your story will allow doors to open and show that actually listening to a patient is what's best for them." Baptiste set his datapad on the countertop behind him, leaning back and crossing his arms.

"There is, of course, the fact that Overwatch is still technically an illegal group, but once we get permission to end the PETRAS act, or, should we have to take this to court… I think I'd like to have you make a statement about your recovery. If you're comfortable with that."

"Would you not get… in serious trouble having me around? I was in a facility--" Siebren said, eyes widened. 

"I don't think so. I mean, at first, perhaps. But given the fact that you're now stable after we got you out of Talon's hands… Plus, you were never a criminal to begin with. There may be a bit of an altercation with the fact that we had you without telling your previous facility, but given the fact that they hid your kidnapping from there, I think we'll have some leverage."

"They never said anything about that? At all?" Why wouldn't they? Would that not be important news - old man with gravity powers escapes from high security mental facility! If not important, then definitely an attention grabber.

"No, not that I know of. I know they reported that Talon broke into _ a _ facility, but if I'm remembering the news reports, they all said nobody was harmed or lost."

"So, if I wanted, perhaps, before then… could I contact my daughter? Tell her that I'm alright?" If nobody knew, what about _ her _? 

"We actually had someone recently go undercover to speak with her, and… well." Baptiste picked up his datapad again, playing an audio recording after a moment of searching for the file.

"And what about your father?" Said a voice that Siebren could only imagine belonged to one of the agents. 

"My father? I lost him years ago. He was a brilliant scientist - Dr. De Kuiper - many people know him as the man who uncovered secrets about black holes." Milou's voice was so different. The last he'd heard her, she was still in University. Now she sounded professional and grown up. 

"How did you lose him, if you don't mind me asking?"

"He was up in a Horizon base. He'd called me a week prior to tell me something about his experiments going well, and that he was going to come around for Christmas. And then a week later…" Milou's voice faltered. It broke Siebren's heart. "We were told something went wrong, and that he was killed after a breach in the laboratory."

Baptiste cut the recording short after that. 

"She thinks I'm dead?" He said, his form sinking, shoulders dropping. He brought a hand to his chin, staring down at the tile floor on the med bay. 

"That's what all the world thinks of you. Very few people know about your time in the facility, and even less know that you're no longer there." Baptiste said, and stepped over to put a hand on his shoulder. "I think, though, we will have a good reaction when people find out you're still around. You were a well respected scientist, and the things people said about you!"

"Ah, come now. I was an astrophysicist, not a doctor, or…"

"The astrophysicist who figured out how black holes were truly formed and how to create them safely." Baptiste reassured him. "You progressed science in ways you didn't expect."

Siebren was surprised with how happy he was with Overwatch. And not just with Overwatch, but with his new friends, and --

Reinhardt, of course. The man had become more protective since New Year's, but Siebren didn't mind the extra attention. He thought he would, but every time Reinhardt interrupted his work with a reminder to go have lunch, or to pull him off to bed to get proper sleep, he realised how much he enjoyed being cared for and loved in every way. He used his room less and less and instead stayed with Reinhardt most nights, thankful for the larger man’s body heat.

Other holidays came and went - Valentine's left him with a sweet card from Reinhardt and a few platonic gifts from others. He kept the card in his lab where he could see it, and set Brigitte's gift of a cat figurine beside it. 

Mei set up a game of Capture the Flag for the Lunar New Year, and Siebren participated on a team with some of the older members. Of course, partway through one match, he was told he wasn't allowed to hover any higher than a foot, and no, he couldn't make his teammates float, either. But it was still fun, even when his team lost and had to hear Lucio and Genji cheering about it afterward.

Spring rolled through, and he ended up with a kitten that enjoyed spending its time on the unused chair in his lab. 

( Brigitte had brought in a mother cat and Torbjorn hadn't been able to say no. Hanzo scooped up one of the other kittens, and Angela kept a little calico for herself. )

Missions came and went. Reinhardt would always swing by before to kiss Siebren goodbye, and it wasn't long before other agents caught on and began to poke fun at their relationship. Brigitte had started calling him "Uncle Siebren", which never failed to bring a smile to his face. He built up courage and felt enough of himself return just as spring turned to summer to contact his daughter. Baptiste, of course, had contacted her first, and explained the situation in detail. Milou had apparently cried for quite some time, and later agreed to meet with Siebren and a few other Overwatch agents in Germany.

( Siebren had wanted to return to The Hague, but he knew it was too risky. His daughter was the only one he wanted to know his status. )

So, together he went with Baptiste, Reinhardt, Brigitte, and Angela, and found a hotel in a busy city to meet with her. 

She’d cried the moment she’d seen him. But then again, Siebren had cried, too, and held her close to his chest. It almost didn’t feel real to have his daughter in his arms again, especially after everything he’d been through with the facility, with Talon - but things were good now. 

Milou showed him photos of her children - _ children _! - and suddenly he went from being just ‘Pa’ to ‘Opa’, and he couldn’t have been happier. He wanted to spend so much more time with her, but relented that Overwatch could only spare him a few days before they had to return to the Watchpoint. Instead, she gave him her contact information, and he happily called her weekly afterward, gleeful to have his child back in his life.

Things were going very, very well for him. 

He awoke slowly, opening his eyes to a dark room and a blanket draping off of his sides. It hung loose, and after focusing, Siebren realised it was because he was floating three feet from his bed, and --

A very amused Reinhardt lay beneath him, arms crossed as he stared up at him.

“You took the blanket, Siebren.” He scolded, playful - Siebren felt his cheeks heat as he slowly maneuvered his way down, floating just a breath away from Reinhardt’s chest, sliding his arms around him as best he could. He let his feet stay suspended slightly so he gently bobbed with the tug of gravity, smiling down at his partner.

“I’m quite sorry about that,” Siebren smiled, tugging his chest closer. “Better now, _ mijn liefste _?” 

“Better, by some.” Reinhardt confirmed, and the smile in his voice was evident simply by the way his words were emphasised. After a moment, he pulled his arms around Siebren, tugging him down against the gentle resistance of gravity, tucking his face beside his.

Siebren clicked his tongue, releasing his hold on gravity slowly enough that he simply drifted downward until he was covering Reinhardt. 

“We should sleep, you know.” Siebren said, pulling his arms away just enough that he could run his hands up and down Reinhardt’s arms. The man was so large, so muscled compared to him - alongside that, he was nearly a furnace, keeping him warm even when the room they shared cooled off considerably. 

“Mmhm,” came the response, tired and muffled against his neck as Reinhardt pulled him in tighter, nudging his nose against his neck and shoulder. 

“It would be good if we did. You have a mission to head out on tomorrow.” He pulled his hands from Reinhardt’s arms and slid them into his hair, petting him. Reinhardt, as usual, melted like a large cat against his hands, lips forming into a wide smile. He let his fingers run from his hair into his beard, scratching his chin to complete the catlike similarity.

“What if I want to stay awake with you,” Reinhardt nearly purred, content as he was, “Because I’m going to miss you when I go?”

“Then I suppose you’ll be tired on the flight to wherever it is you’re going.” Siebren answered, nudging Reinhardt away from his shoulder with his nose. “You know I’ll be here waiting for you to come back.”

“You always are, _ liebe _.” Reinhardt’s voice was gentle in a way Siebren hadn’t heard before. The larger man’s eyes - or at least, the one that still had color left in it - turned away, bashful. His entire frame seemed to shrink into itself as he spoke, betraying a hesitation he’d never shown before. Siebren twirled some of Reinhardt’s hair between his fingers as he fixed him with a stare, one brow raised questioningly.

“Are you nervous about something, Reinhardt?” Siebren asked, his voice quiet.

“No,” Reinhardt admitted, but took a moment to meet Siebren’s eyes again. 

Quiet lay between them for some time, Siebren resuming his petting, and Reinhardt closing his eyes to allow himself to relax into it. When he next spoke, it was a whisper, but Siebren heard him clearly and couldn’t help the grin across his lips.

“Siebren, I…” A breath. “I love you.”

Siebren’s cheeks hurt from his smile. He didn’t mind.

“I love you, too, Reinhardt.” Came his reply, his eyes locked onto Reinhardt’s, a gentle affection behind them. “Is that all you were worried about saying?”

“Perhaps. It … Seemed like a good time. I just... Wanted you to know. That I love you.”

“_ Mijn liefste _, any time at all is a good time to hear that. I would love to hear you say it every day.” Siebren laughed, and leaned down to kiss Reinhardt. He was met halfway by Reinhardt’s smiling lips and an arm sliding around his waist to roll him over. And then Reinhardt was over him, covering him, surrounding him with a welcome warmth and he was being kissed like they were both starving for it. A large hand slid up his side, under his shirt, and he surrendered to it happily, smiling at every whispered adoration offered his way. 

They slept little, but Siebren found that he didn’t mind, not when he wound up with Reinhardt’s gaze locked on him, full of affection he never knew he’d receive and a pleasant ache that lingered on through the next morning when he kissed Reinhardt goodbye.

It had taken time, 

effort,

and care from others that he’d never expected, but…

He’d found home and happiness, and despite all the hardships, he never wanted it to change.

Siebren de Kuiper knew right where he was, and right where he was going to stay. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this was enjoyable! Siebren deserves a happy ending after everything, and I hope this satisfies that.
> 
> Milou was originally going to be an unnamed child of Siebren's, but I couldn't help but think that putting a name and a bit of info behind her would help drive home the feeling that he was a person with a family that loved him rather than just the living weapon we know in game. He had her when he was young, and split with his ( now ex ) wife soon after she was born; they had joint custody and he was a loving father on good terms with his ex. Milou would spend a lot of time with him until he got his job with Horizon, at which point most of their communication was done through calls.
> 
> After the events in this, I like to think that Milou writes a song for him based on the melody he describes to her and dedicates it to him.
> 
> Many of Siebren's mannerisms were actually influenced by my fiancee, who has schizophrenia and very heavily relates to Siebren's story. Reinhardt is his 'favorite person', as she calls it.
> 
> Anyway, I'd love to hear what you thought, so please don't be afraid to tell me ( even if it's just a 'rad story dude.' ).


End file.
